by Unknown
I let out a cry as he grips my hand and Hawke’s lands over his. Then I glance at Coco. She’s nodding, her lips quivering. She looks away from me then smiles at Fletch.
He says, “I know Coco will be an incredible mother just as you were, and you’ll be a wonderful aunt. I know we can count on you for that.”
“Wha…wait! What?” I yell as I jump off the couch. “You’re pregnant?” I throw my arms around her as we laugh and cry.
“That I am! Aunt Sloan and Uncle Hawke.”
I grip her face then kiss her nose and her cheeks. “Oh my God… I’m so excited! I can’t even.” I run to Fletch and throw myself onto his lap. “This is amazing, you guys! This is…”
“Incredible,” says Hawke as we continue on with our sob fest. “I’m so happy for you guys!”
“Thanks. Seemed the right time to share,” Fletch says proudly.
The right time to share, I think later that night as I’m staring up at the wall Hawke and I filled this morning with tombstone rubbings and photos. I walk toward the framed images and run one hand over Hawke Jr.’s rubbing, my other hand over my heart, which is beating rapidly. What a day.
“I’m proud of you. Real proud,” Hawke says as he kisses the nape of my neck after sweeping my hair aside.
“Thanks. I’m proud of you too. You really held it together. I never could have done that without you.”
Hawke spins me around to face him. This man is all love and comfort.
“For the record, yes. You could have. But, also for the record, I hope the rest of your life is filled with things you can’t do without me “That sounds nice. I hope so too.”
Our lips meet for a slow kiss, his tongue sliding over mine, tasting like whiskey and chocolate. He groans into my mouth as his hips press against me and his hand runs down my back, holding me tight to him.
“You’re dope as fuck,” I say, knowing he’ll laugh.
“That’s funny now that I have you. I hated it that last night on the willow bank. Hated it. God, my heart hurt that night.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I love you.”
“I’ve loved you since you kissed me that night in the silo when we were sweet and fresh tender buds. I’ll never forget the way you giggled when my tongue met yours as you opened your mouth. Never will I forget thinking, I’m going to marry this girl. I’m going to have babies with this girl. I’m going to fill her heart and her soul. I’m going to be a permanent part of her. I swear to you I knew it then. Knew you were mine. Never for one second did I ever think another man would have you. Never.”
“Hawke? Breathe.”
“I am breathing. Only you. I am breathing you. You are my air—always have been. Crazy as that sounds, you always have been, Sloan. You.”
“Who exactly are you expecting? Royalty?” I chuckle as I wander through room after room of our penthouse suite in Las Vegas. “There’s a pool in here!” I yell out. “This is ridiculous. Why would you ever spend this much? Who needs a pool in their room?”
Hawke’s on the phone talking to someone; he covers it with his hand as he walks into the room, where I’m gawking. “Darlin’, I wouldn’t. They give this to me every year. What’s a guy to do? Turn ’em down?”
“Wow. You are a star. As in, free?” I smile like a kid who’s just been given a pony.
“On the house,” he whispers then goes back to his call.
“And all of this champagne and stuff? What is this? Food and…” I look down at baskets filled with colorful, plastic toys. “Oh my God. Every kind of vibrator known to mankind.”
He ends his call then walks over to check the goods out.
“Can I bust into this basket?” I rip through the plastic and grab an interesting black, multiple-headed toy to examine it. “Who would know what to do with this?”
He laughs as he takes the toy to examine it while he wiggles his eyebrows. “You can bust into any of them. I guarantee you, by tomorrow, there will be twenty more baskets filled with more toys than you’ll use in a hundred lifetimes. You may never want me again.”
“Hardly!”
“Hey.” He grabs my hand. “I should probably fill you in on that call.”
I continue to dig through the baskets and say, “Way to be a black rain cloud.”
His elbows are planted on his knees, his face in his hands as he slumps on the couch.
“That was the lawyer, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, it was.”
All I can think is that it’s something to do with Holl. Last week, we heard an earful. Apparently, I wasn’t the only queen in the castle. Holl had three of us over there. Each of us in our own private quarters so we couldn’t interact. Apparently we were all cam girls. All charmed by Holl in one way or another. One girl had no teeth. Not because of oral hygiene, I’m guessing. Another was apparently there for even longer than I was. Hawke won’t tell me what the lawyer said about her. My curiosity is thankfully not getting the best of me for once.
“Cricket, come here.”
I amble over to where Hawke is sitting on the couch. He pulls me in next to him as I sit.
“Just spill it. What? Can’t they do something now? Will he still be able to do this shit and get away with it? Please tell me it’s over.”
“He’s done. For good.”
“Oh, thank God. Did they deport him and lock him up forever?”
“Well, not exactly.” He works his hand over his jawline.
I’ve come to know this as his concerned for me look.
“Holl hanged himself last night.”
“Hanged?” I belt out. “He’s dead?” My stomach muscles form a knot.
“Yeah.” Hawke nods while holding my hands in an intense grip. Maybe a little for both of us.
“Oh. Oh wow. Okay. Well, that’s… I mean. Good.” I stand and stretch my arms above my head. Clear my throat.
Dead. Okay, then.
“Listen. I know, even though he was hideous, it’s hard for you to hear this,” he says as he comes over to me. “I got my fill-in on that Stockholm Syndrome. I really do understand that your feelings are real.”
I shudder and my spine cracks in response. Everyone thinks they understand what I went through. Hell, I’m not even sure I do.
“I don’t know what my feelings are, to be honest. I suppose it’s a combination of relief mixed with a weird bag of other stuff. Truthfully, relief is the main one.” I huff out a breath. “I worked through a lot of that other stuff, as I told you. A shit-ton of therapy. I’m okay. I’m really okay. He was not a good man.”
I’m okay. Holl is dead. This is good. He was the devil.
“He was an evil man,” Hawke says as his arms wrap around me.
Minutes go by, maybe more. I melt into Hawke’s arms as he sways the tiniest bit. He kisses the top of my head several times, tells me how much he loves me.
“Darlin’, you okay? I need you to talk to me. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“I survived,” I whisper. “That’s it.”
Samantha and Sloan flank me, both of them gripping my arms as though I might fall off the earth. As far as that goes, it already happened to me when Sloan Story McQueen came back into my life—and then stayed. I know we’re in the early stages of the grown-up version of us. She knows it too.
Thing is, I don’t foresee any insurmountable obstacles for us. Sloan’s already gone through hell and survived. As for me, I could take pretty much anything at this point in my life with her at my side.
I glance over to her just before they make the final announcement of the night. Male Adult Performer of the Year. Sloan’s ruddy cheeks and wrinkled brow wear a combination of eager meets terrified. Why, I’ve no idea.
“Well, this is number five for this man: Hawke Slater,” the emcee says.
Sloan wraps her arms around me and squeals into my ear.
I walk up the stairs, knowing what a huge night this is—not just for the industry, but for me and Sloan. I stand at the mic and look around at the th
ousands of people standing, clapping for me.
“Thank you. What a night. Thank you all.” I let out a deep breath and collect my nerves.
Someone screams my name from the balconies, and I chuckle.
“I, ahh… Well. It’s been an honor to work in this industry with all of you. You’re good people.” I take a second to revel in the moment. “I’m in this business for one reason. The love of my life dumped me when we were eighteen.” I laugh quietly along with the crowd as I wink at Sloan. “A boy in love with a girl. Amazingly, that same woman is back in my life.” I look over to Sloan, who has tears streaming down her face.
I have a moment of disbelief. But it really is her. And I realize maybe now, maybe tonight, with all of these folks who have taken me in like family, this is the night.
“While I’m honored to have won all these awards tonight, I’m making a shift in my career as of this very minute. I’ll be in the industry, yes, but my cock will not.”
The audience bellows with laughter.
“You see, my girl there—Sloan—well, she deserves all of me. And, since luck’s been on my side tonight so far… Well, hell. I figure a guy deserves to push his luck now and again.” My heart hammers when I look at her.
I wonder if hers is too. I wonder if she has any idea how lost I was without her.
“Sloan, darlin’, I’d like it if we could put some real meaning behind the band you’ve got on your hand that you gave me back when we were seventeen. How about we add another date or two on it? What do you say, Cricket? I always said I was gonna marry you. This right here…is me asking.”
Sloan’s hands cover her mouth. I don’t need to see her lips to know what she’s feeling. It can’t be so different from what I’m feeling. Her eyes are telling me everything. I head toward the steps, and she meets me there at the bottom, with the room pin-drop silent, waiting for her answer.
“Hawke…I…” She pauses a long time. Too long.
But I know her answer.
“You what, darlin’? You want to be my wife? I might have missed a thing or two with you, but we can take it from here and make it anything you want it to be. Anything at all. I want to give you the world.”
“Yes, Hawke. Yes. I will.” She nods then cries as she wraps her arms around me.
“Thought so.” I chuckle as I kiss her. “I love you. So damn much, always have, always will.”
The room explodes when I give them a thumbs-up.
One Year Later ~ Amsterdam
Hawke kneels in the damp grass next to me, rice paper in one hand, charcoal in the other. He unrolls the paper with a deep exhale. I pin the semi-opaque sheet against the gravestone as he rubs the charcoal over it. His shaking fingers blacken as he flips the small, ebony charcoal stick over now and again.
“You okay?” I ask. “I know this is hard.”
“Yeah. Hard,” he says. He clears his throat a few times. “Real hard.”
“Hey.” I rub one hand over his back as his eyes fill, effectively breaking my heart for what he must be feeling.
He stops rubbing and drops his head to his chest. He clears his throat again then continues rubbing the gravestone. “There it is. Hawke Holton Slater Junior. Our boy.”
I bite a sob back. “Hawke, I know this is not an easy day. But I’m glad, you know. Glad we’re here. You?”
“Yeah. Never did think I’d be rubbing my own son’s gravestone. But yeah, I am glad.”
Never did think, I repeat over and over. Neither did I.
“I love how all the colors are coming along. It’s happy. It’s going to be perfect!” I sing out, gleefully clapping my hands.
Hawke nods, a huge grin on his face. “It’s better than perfect, Cricket.”
“Yeah. It’s pretty special.”
The clap of our feet echoes as we walk from one room to the next, exploring the castle’s maze. The castle Hawke Jr. and I lived in for seven years, isolated. The sounds of our feet hitting the floor should take me to a dark place, but instead, I imagine what the noise of hundreds of children running through the halls, laughing, and shouting, will be like. Cheerful comes to mind.
It was Hawke’s idea to purchase the castle. My first thought was, Not a chance in hell. But, when he explained his idea of turning those depressing memories into something joyful, I just had to say yes.
The castle—now the Hawke Slater, Jr. Children’s Museum—is scheduled to open in a mere five weeks.
“This way,” I tell Hawke as I grab his hand and take a left toward what was Hawke Jr.’s bedroom. Truth be told, it was a mini hospital outfitted with enough equipment and a well-paid-to-be-silent full-time nurse.
“Sloan. Oh Jesus.” Hawke stares at the gallery of images covering a wall.
Each one of them is something about our son. His hands. His tiny, red mouth. His chest, which was smaller than a hamburger bun in the early days. He walks to the wall with one hand out, the other covering his mouth. I don’t think I breathe for a minute.
“You can touch those. You should,” I tell him as he approaches a black-and-white photo of Hawke Jr.’s feet when he was first born.
“Day one?” His voice cracks as he grabs my hand and kisses my fingertips.
“Yep.” I can smile about it now—though I’ll admit that putting this wall of images together as a surprise for Hawke, while cathartic, also made me an emotional mess most days.
“Half my pinkie. So small,” he says, touching the image of our son’s foot.
“I wish you had…” I swallow, unable to finish my sentence.
He wraps an arm around my shoulders as we gaze at the photos together. “Me too, Cricket. Me too,” he says softly against my ear.
Hawke and I stay in that room, talking for what might have been a few hours. Talking about our past. Talking about our future. Talking about how, one of these years, we’ll give the kid thing another try. Maybe more than once. Maybe many times, for that matter. And, while the loss of our son, the boy Hawke never did know, the boy who was silent all of his seven years, is a terribly tear-jerking thing, I do with all my heart know this:
Somewhere, that sweet boy is running through meadows with a piss-filled squirt gun, chasing a girl. Somewhere, he’s off skinny-dipping with that same sassy girl, racing her to the raft. And, somewhere, he’s off kissing her for the very first time in a silo.
He’s somewhere, all right. He’s there, living a full and happy other lifetime, and he’s here, too, nestled in our hearts for all of eternity.
###
Dear love,
Thank you so much for reading my book! If you enjoyed it, I’d be so grateful if you’d consider posting a review. And, I’ve written a couple of other books you may also enjoy.
~ How To Tame Beasts And Other Wild Things http://amzn.to/1NiEpiq
~ A Mess of Reason http://amzn.to/1KFru31
Big thank-yous to my beta reader, Nina. Wine and books and fun for years to come! And to my many awesome ARC readers + blogger friends! I adore you for embracing my work and for sharing it with the world. Oceans full of kisses + meadows full of cricket chirps xxxxxx Mickey and Rahab, I’m blown away by you guys and how you continue to help me grow as a writer. I bow down with gratitude.
To my friends and family, your support and encouragement means the world to me.
To my darling husband, my favorite person in the world and my best friend and lover, thank you for believing in me and for pushing, encouraging, and loving me the way you do. And for helping me make my passions come to fruition. You continue to be the remarkable, open-minded, soulful, and beautiful person I have always known…except you keep getting better!
On Pinterest (www.pinterest.com/awildingwells)you will find my inspiration board for this book. I do love building worlds—you might want to check it out. Also, please consider following me on social media if you’d like to be notified about my upcoming books and cool giveaways, which are plentiful.
About this book
I grew up on a gentleman’s far
m not so different than Moonstone Ranch and the idea of falling in love with a neighbor boy who grew up and became a porn star sounded like a hell of a lot of fun to explore. And, oh boy, was it ever! I don’t have any friends who are porn stars or know anyone who has cammed. But I do know we are all at the end of the day human regardless of our choices and careers. We all laugh and cry and feel and love. We all, at some point, make choices or have experiences that become arcs in our lives.
The second I began writing this novel, the world of Sloan and Hawke cracked open like a piñata filled with goodies; goodies that I happily dove into and gathered up. As odd as it sounds, it often seems as though my characters write my books. My role is simply the agitator. I’m forever tossing snowballs at my characters, each one jam-packed with some crazy thing they need to deal with. Each chapter unfolds like a scavenger hunt, little clues popping into my head randomly. There were many times while writing this book that I cried for this couple. I felt everything they went through (insert your favorite emojis). Thank goodness my husband makes the best ever cocktails, of which—and with impeccable timing—he brings me one. Sometimes two…
About Hawke, Jr.
I did have a lovely, sweet niece who sadly lived her entire life with cerebral palsy. She died in her early teens, and when I wrote about Hawke Holten, Jr., I thought of her. I thought about how much she mattered, how everyone does, even if they can’t speak, or move much, or are limited by a set of circumstances. None of us will ever know what goes on in their brains or hearts. Just know, they matter. While my niece could not walk or talk, she was filled with light and smiles and an energy everyone felt. She communicated in her own way, and she touched many lives in her few years. Any amount of time spent with her was meaningful. Her lovely parents—my amazing brother and incredible sister-in-law—together with her two younger sisters, gave her a beautiful life. And we are all confident she’s off running through meadows chasing butterflies, and boys. And she will forever be in our hearts as well.